


man on the moon

by franziskas



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cassian waxing poetic nonsense and fumbling his way through a love confession, F/M, Please don’t take this seriously, Post-War, maximum pining achieved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franziskas/pseuds/franziskas
Summary: Jyn is Jyn, Cassian has feelings and is perplexed. / "Will you stay?" He asks. It's as close to the truth as anything he's ever said to her.Her quizzical expression softens, "Sure," she murmurs, "but I get the 'fresher first in the morning.""I don't negotiate with terrorists." Cassian says, already sold. 3/6
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, rebelcaptain
Comments: 20
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a short 5+1 exercise but it... got away from me. Wookiepedia gave me all of the information I didn't make up. Title taken from Zella Day's 'Man on the Moon' from the official Cassian Andor playlist on Spotify. If you haven't listened yet, please do! It's phenomenal.

Sera-7 is an acrid, festering outer-rim trading post located deep in the valley of a massive, crumbling crater on the side of an asteroid covered in a permanent hazy fog. With her dark and misty climate, too willing beautiful women, and all the illegal substances known to the galaxy a few coins away, S-7 may have _looked_ like a place to get comfortably lost, but Cassian could smell a womp rat from a light year away. She was home to thieves and liars, rapists and murderers; bottom of the barrel Sents that would slit throats for the lint in someone's pocket. With both sides of the war deeming S-7 a useless, smoking dumpster fire, all sense of law and order was virtually nonexistent, giving way to a quickly and constantly rising crime rate. The galactic black market had taken over long ago after seeing easy targets in the simple merchants that had originally settled on the rock, breeding a cesspool of questionable morale and sexually transmitted disease.

Cassian would personally rather slit his _own_ throat than touch the ground with a ten foot pole, but recently, rumors of extremist imperialist cells gathering there had surfaced, causing Alliance high command to take a closer look. Thus, he (a _high ranking_ and _trusted_ intelligence officer, as Draven had put it when he was laying the flattery on thick upon seeing Cassian's immediate frown at the mention of an under the radar trip to Sera) found himself with both boots planted on pungent S-7 soil. The best he can hope for is to leave this place with all of his appendages unbroken and still attached. Fighting a heavy sigh, he briefly wonders if wars are ever really over, or if it's just endless, mindless suffering.

"This place is a shithole." Jyn declares from beside him, echoing his thoughts. She's strapped with a blaster and her truncheon, dark scarf tucked into the collar of her jacket. She gives him a 'this is it?' sort of look through her wild fringe, clearly unimpressed. Funny, he'd sort of expected the woman that had been raised by a Rebel extremist and plucked from a Wobani prison to feel right at home here. To be fair, he _had_ warned her before she'd volunteered to accompany him. Draven had looked like he'd had half a mind to protest when she'd barreled into Comms and demanded to tag along, but had then wisely thought better of it. What was he to do, deny a war hero? Besides, when Jyn insisted, she really, _really_ insisted.

Cassian hums his agreement with her statement, eyes roving over her appreciatively. Thankfully, she doesn't notice, too distracted by the awful sights and smells around them. He's not sure what it is—the mist curling around her feet that makes her look like she carries some sort of magic, the neon sign across the way giving her ivory skin a soft pink glow, or if it's just her and his innate inability to notice anything else when she was near—but she looks exceptionally pretty here (even with the open loathing on her face), among the rundown remains of what appears to have once been a tabac bar, judging from the shards of stained glass and the lingering smell of burning paper. Pity, partaking in a smoke would probably lesson his disdain for this place considerably. His only saving grace was Jyn's welcome and snarky presence; if he was to suffer, at least it would be with her.

They hadn't been alone together in quite some time; Cassian had been working off-world for the better part of two months as an intelligence liaison while she'd toured with the Pathfinders, then took up work as a member of Princess Leia's personal guard when her hand-to-hand combat skills had been recognized (this didn't last very long as she'd banned Han Solo from being within five hundred feet of the Princess three minutes into her first conversation with him). The moments they'd shared since Scarif had always seemed stolen, but now, it felt as though she was right where she was supposed to be.

The space between them is slim, Jyn hovering just at his elbow as she observes their surroundings with her lip curled in distaste. The distance seems to lesson the longer he knows her—he wonders how long it will be until they become one being? She's already cracked him open and planted seeds, she might as well wear his skin, too. Truthfully, Cassian's thoughts rarely strayed from her, even when she was nowhere in sight. The two months he'd been gone had only bolstered his need for her; the simplicity of her presence, her natural affinity for seeing through bantha shit, that damn smile. The space beside him was always perfectly filled by her small but absolutely impressive figure. He'd call it love if he had anything to compare it to. Right now, the only thing he can classify it as is completely terrifying. Though, it doesn't stop him from pressing closer, her warmth seeping into him.

She's the only thing that makes this trip and just about everything else in his life even remotely tolerable, but Cassian doesn't say this, only nudges her and nods his head at the shop across the alley from them. It's a chapel shaped hole in the wall, advertising tattoos _and_ wedding officiations in giant flickering neon letters.

"Should we get matching ink?" Cassian asks, only half joking. He's angling for a smile or a laugh, but if she actually wanted to...

Jyn snorts, green eyes rolling into the back of her head, " _Ugh_ , let's just get this over with."

...

The market is reminiscent of Jedha; Jyn tagging close, curious eyes roaming as she runs her hand along the length of a table covered in glittering jewels, the appealing scent of cooked meat, children playing in between the tapestry covered stalls. The only thing missing was the feeling of impending doom. Thankfully, stakes weren't quite as high this time around, and hopefully they wouldn't be half a second away from being eviscerated when they jumped back into hyperspace.

As Jyn bends down to examine a table of scarves, particularly drawn to a deep purple sash with gold thread spun through it, Cassian decides to bring up the one thing he'd been dreading this entire trip. She hates being left behind more than anything, but with their goal being collecting information and not knocking heads together, he can't help but feel that he should be the one asking the questions, alone. He was trained for it (and one of the best), after all. Jyn was most useful when it came to striking fear into the hearts of their enemies, and Cassian doesn't think that heavy of a hand will be necessary for this interaction. He hopes she'll see it the same way and not try to stab him for the mere suggestion. It was unnerving when she got that look in her eye and laid her hand on the hilt of a knife.

"I should meet with our contact alone." Cassian says to the back of her head before his courage fades, not missing how her back stiffens. She turns to him with a frown, looking like she'd love nothing more than to make a scene, only stalling when he lifts a brow and reminds her of the last interrogation she partook in. "You almost beat a man to death."

"I got him to talk, didn't I? Also, I resent your use of the word ' _man_ '. He was an imperialist lackey; do they even _have_ any humanity left?"

Cassian takes Jyn by her elbow, pulling her away from the table and to the side, "The point is," without thinking too much about it until it's too late to draw his hand back, he brushes a wild strand of hair behind her ear. He pretends it's all perfectly normal and platonic, though he's sure she can feel the hammering of his heart in the tip of his finger that's still drawing down the shell of her ear. He continues like nothing had happened, ignoring her quizzical but not bothered (thank the Force) look, "this trip is meant to be _discreet._ "

Jyn glares, "I can be discreet."

Cassian rolls his eyes, "You're about as discreet as a stormtrooper."

She looks mildly offended and thoroughly put out. He might even say she's pouting if he thought Jyn Erso would ever do such a thing. "You never let me have any fun." She complains, arms crossing over her chest.

Cassian tsks as if he really pities her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes once more. How she can still be so charming with that snide look on her face, he'll never know, but he does quite enjoy it.

"What if you need me?" Jyn persists, "What if something goes wrong—"

"It won't." Cassian says firmly before Jyn can finish her sentence. He understands her fears. He himself has what feels like a miniature heart attack each time either she, Bodhi, Chirrut, or Baze leave the base on Yavin-4. The little family he's stumbled upon has become the most meaningful thing to him, aside from the rebellion. After Scarif and the slim margin by which they'd all survived, he hardly wants to let any of them—Jyn especially—out of his sight. Still, what has to be done must be done, and he has enough confidence in himself to think that he could wheedle his way out if anything did go wrong, sans a broken back and third degree burns all over his body.

Wearily, Jyn finally agrees, poking her index finger sharply into his chest, "If you die, I'll kill you."

Cassian grins, finding her complete lack of eloquence endearing. He lifts his hand to straighten her scarf, his fingers lingering on the lapel of her jacket as he ponders why his heart is suddenly sinking.

It's not leaving to do the job, it's leaving _her_ to do the job, he realizes.

He remembers that Jyn's was the first face he saw when he awoke in the medbay after Scarif; the implants in his back felt foreign, the skin grafts did not belong, but she was so familiar, hovering over him with a sardonic sort of smirk, like she thought it was about time he'd woken up. The only sign of what she hid underneath that curved grin was her hand holding his, so tight his bones felt like they were going to shatter. She had been afraid, so very afraid. Sometimes it still struck him silly that it had all been for him; that tight grip, the tears she turned her head to hide. She'd been a constant, yet welcome thorn in his side during his rehabilitation, and though he'd been afraid she would disappear like wisps of smoke through his fingertips—the flighty, wild, rebel woman she was—she'd stayed.

Now, over a year later, she's slid herself into all of the empty spaces he'd never known he had like twisted vines, wrapping tight around his chest, making his breath heavy, his heart clench. Friend, confidant, partner—no words could ever describe what she truly meant to him. He wants to be so close they can never untangle, that they'd just orbit each other for eons. There's always been a pull, a _something_ , an invisible string tying him to her. The very second he saw her face after receiving orders to kill her father, he'd known—he could not do it, he _would not_ do it.

Realizing that he's looked at her, mesmerized, for just a little too long, Cassian assures Jyn of his quick return before turning and leaving her in the square. He can feel her frown following him through the crowd—he's been odd lately, he knows. He's spent too much time thinking of the future, something he'd never bothered with before. Thinking too much about hope, family, love. What it all meant. If he deserves it after all he's done.

What does the soldier do when the war is won? Hope for another cause to die for? Wash the blood from his hands, as if it was never there? He can't make sense of it at all, because he's constantly scrubbing and yet the red still stains.

Part of Cassian had never expected to make it here, and most of him hadn't really cared. There was always the mission, then the next, on and on until he eventually and inevitably gave all he had to offer to the cause. He had known what he was meant to be—or at least he thought he had—until Jyn. Suns across the galaxy could have risen a thousand times in unison and he'd have never looked up, knee deep in paperwork and covert affairs and the scope of his rifle. Now, he itches for something. A change. A chance. She made him want to be better, she made him want to be more. More than a ghost, more than a code name and a cover story.

Cassian pauses at the end of the long row of market stalls, turns back to lay eyes on his partner once more before disappearing down the alley to make contact with their informant. For a moment, he can't see her small frame and his chest swells with panic. It subsides only a moment later when he catches sight of her picking through a basket of starfruit, searching for the ripest snack with a look of serious determination.

He'd told Jyn once that rebellions were built on hope. Now, he hopes that if there is indeed an after for him, she's apart of it.

...

The informant is a young Twi'lek barkeep named Ashak. Her vibrant green skin is hard to miss among the bottom feeders that frequent _The Drunken Wookie_ , and her bright, boisterous laugh would be enough to have any man spilling his deepest and darkest secrets after a few too many brews. Her talents were wasted here on this rock, that much Cassian knew.

Per the report he was given by Draven, Ashak had been a slave for many years until the Alliance had liberated the mining encampment she was trapped on. Her nails are perfectly manicured and painted black, Cassian observes when she approaches with the ale he'd ordered, but her skin bears the scars of her enslavement. Deep lashes from a whip, the tip of her index finger missing. She'd have just as much of a vendetta against the Empire as anyone else he's met. If this was her revenge against them, he was more than happy to assist.

After dropping the predetermined code word in casual conversation, her dark eyes light, her previously cheerful voice drops, gathering thinly veiled excitement. She is eager to help, to snuff any remaining imperialism out. He makes a mental note to send a recruiting officer her way, a soldier that actually believed in their cause was invaluable. Her information is thorough; names, locations, comings and goings all residing on a small disc she pushes towards him when all other eyes are averted.

When he asks what her intent is in passing on the information, she leans close again, fingers spread over the wooden bar top. With a toothy grin, she says, "Fuck the Empire." in a barely contained whisper. Jyn would like this one. He almost regrets not letting her tag along, but Ashak was a flirt, and if he'd brought his female companion... Well, he'd had informants clam up for less.

Cassian raises his half empty mug in a toast as she pulls back, "I'll drink to that." He drains the glass, gives Ashak a handful of coins. He turns after thanking her for her time, already intent on a meal and Jyn. Hopefully, she hadn't wandered too far, or started any back alley brawls.

He fondly remembers the time he'd had to spring her from a Batuu jail after he'd turned his back for all of five minutes. When asked what she'd done as they shielded themselves from a hail of blaster fire behind a row of shipping crates, she had given him a sheepish shrug, "I may have suggested that the guards fuck each other's mothers and then themselves when they asked for my identification." He'd shaken his head, more in amusement than irritation, and thought ' _only you, Jyn_ '.

Night is fast approaching when he exits the bar, or at least what Cassian thought was night considering S-7 was cloaked in constant darkness. The atmosphere feels more sinister, somehow, like his own shadow would jump him. The thick layer of fog covering the post has intensified, parting around his boots like smoke as he walks. The air is cold and stiff, seeping into his bones and making his joints ache. The market is still lively, but the gentle fruit sellers and children have gone, drug dealers and ladies of the night taking their place. After weaving through stalls and avoiding a few dark corners, he finds Jyn relatively close to where he'd left her, half haggling, half arguing with an exhausted looking merchant over a table of long knives.

Cassian takes pity on the poor man and decides to interrupt. He draws close to her, hovering just behind her as he lays a hand on the small of her back, barely concealing his grin when she jumps in surprise. It wasn't very often that he could sneak up on her. When she turns her head to look at him, her glare is fierce—a lesser man would have shaken in his boots. He, at the present moment, is more or less unaffected. Maybe it's the feel of her back flexing beneath his hand as she moves just a little bit closer to him, as if unconsciously, or maybe it's that their cover is almost always husband and wife. He enjoys playing the part a little too much, if he's being honest.

Jyn's glare twists into a mischievous smile, and he has no time to react or put a stop to her shenanigans before she declares, "Oh, _perfect!_ My husband is here." She wraps her small hand around his elbow, the tinkering and delicate tone she's using so unlike herself. She gives the merchant she'd been quarreling with only a moment before a wide smile. "He's paying, and we'll take the whole lot." She announces, squeezing his elbow tight.

Cassian stiffens, now it's his turn to glare. She must feel the twin holes burning into the top of her head, but she appears unaffected, just grips his elbow with all the strength she can muster, nails digging into his skin. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly passes the coins needed to the suddenly cheerful merchant, frown etched deep.

"Well played." He mutters to her from the corner of his mouth as they listen to the clink of coins being counted and set away.

Jyn laughs, leaning against his shoulder as she accepts her parcel. After, she pushes up and dramatically kisses his cheek, and he can't even enjoy it because she then simpers "thank you, darling!" in her ridiculous house wife voice as she pulls away.

"You're the worst." He tells her seriously as they pick their way through the thinning crowds. Jyn's knives are tucked under one arm and her unoccupied hand swings freely, brushing his every so often. If he had just a bit more courage, he'd grab it and hold it tight.

She ignores his comment, instead nudges him with her shoulder once they turn down an emptier street. "How'd it go?" She asks.

Cassian pats the shape of the disc in his pocket, "Seems promising."

"Good, means we can get out of this place before we catch some kind of crab." There's a little skip in her step now. He really hates to trip her up, but he does anyway.

"You know we'll have to come back if her information is good, right? This is our research; if a mission is sanctioned, we'll have to execute it."

Jyn groans, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes, "Let's just get to our room. I need to wash the layer of filth and pollution off of my skin."

The way she says 'our room' would put a little skip in his own step if he was a lesser man, but he manages to ignore the sudden loud beating of his heart, the feel of her arm pressing into his hip. Is it just him, or has the space she puts between them drawn even shorter since they'd landed on Sera? With a hand on her shoulder, trying (and failing) not to think about it too much, he turns her down an alley that comes out just on the other side of the hostel they've booked a room at.

On the corner, they run into a pretty red haired, leather clad call girl, who propositions Cassian with a saucy purr. He politely declines, pointing to Jyn beside him, who's grinning so gleefully at his discomfort her face is almost splitting, "I'm with her."

The woman smiles at this, then gives Jyn a slow, bedroom eyed once over before deciding, "She can come, too." Jyn looks flattered and pleasantly surprised, turns to him with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical look, like she's actually considering.

Cassian drags his partner away before she does something absolutely Jyn-like and accepts the most generous offer.

...

Check in is quick and painless, their fabricated identification easily passing minimal inspection. Once the door to their room slides open, Jyn falls onto the bed, sighing happily as she stretches like a loth-cat. He sinks into the chair beside the already burning fireplace, unlacing his boots.

Jyn rolls onto her side, props herself up on her elbow. She watches him for a few moments, thinking. Finally, she asks, "Do you really believe imperial loyalists are lurking here?"

Cassian shrugs, sits back in his chair after setting his boots aside, "I can't say for certain, but it is likely. The Empire's reach was long. They made certain people powerful, and those people will want to stay in power. Sera is the perfect place for them to breed. There's no law here. You saw yourself, it's just chaos."

Jyn sits up as he speaks, unrolling her parcel, sharpening stone ready. She examines her blades absently, looking troubled. He lets her ruminate for a few minutes before asking his own question, "What is it, Jyn?"

"I guess I just hoped that it was done." Jyn admits quietly, drawing a finger down the metal of a curved knife. "All the suffering, the bloodshed..." She trails off with a slight shake of her head.

He feels the need to comfort her, as best as he can, "We'll finish it. I promise." He wouldn't rest until she could lay her head down and dream of a sandy beach with gentle waves lapping at its shore. One that doesn't explode in a blinding white light in the end.

Jyn's answering smile is soft, appreciative, but not convinced.

Cassian watches her sharpen her blades for what seems like an eternity, the soft chink of stone against metal the only sound in the room save for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. She works until she nicks herself, cursing before sticking her knuckle into her mouth.

He has to look away before he starts to think too much about the single bed, and how they'll have to share, and instead focuses on the disc he'd placed on the small, rickety end table beside his chair. Plucking his datapad from his bag, he settles back into his seat, hoping work will distract him from the enticing woman across the room from him.

...

After an hour of watching Cassian take notes from the files Ashak had put together, Jyn grows fidgety. She paces back and forth across the small expanse of space, from where he's seated in his chair to the door, over and over.

She reminds him of a loth-cat again; feral and spitting, claws sharp and poised, waiting for the door of her cage to swing open so she can strike. Restless and reckless. The firelight flickers and catches the jade of her eyes, brightening the dull of the simple room, and for a moment, he hears machinery humming around them, the rickety lurching of an elevator bound for death. The feeling of her fingers feathering across the back of his neck is not something he would soon forget. He'd wanted to kiss her, but he'd settled for those few seconds of looking into her eyes, all of the darkness around them melting away. He couldn't think of anything else he'd rather see before the very end of all things. He had been content to die by her side, their mission accomplished.

Only, they hadn't died, and he still wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Jyn is still pacing, with an added bonus of grumbling and scrubbing at a spot of dirt on her cheek that looks all but permanent. He's planning on letting her wind herself down to exhaustion, but after ten minutes his annoyance peaks.

"Jyn, you're going to wear a hole in the floor. Please sit down." Cassian tries not to snap, but there's an edge to his words. She glowers at his tone but concedes, dropping back onto the bed with a huff, staring up at the dirty ceiling.

He's able to ignore her dramatic, pointed sighs for only a few minutes. "Can I help you?" He asks without looking up, resisting the urge to exhale his _own_ heavy sigh.

"I'm bored." She whines, so unlike herself. This place really must be getting to her. "Let's play a game."

"Find where it lists providing entertainment in the Alliance employee handbook and then get back to me."

She turns her head to frown at him, "Cassian."

Finally releasing his pent up sigh, he sets his pad aside. "Alright then, three truths and a lie. I'll go first." Jyn sits up, eager, "I was born just as the warm season ends on Fest, my favorite color is blue, I can hit a bullseye at three hundred yards, _and_ you're annoying me."

"All four of those are true." Jyn says with a glare, pulling an amused chuckle from him.

"Jyn, unless you want to scour Ashak's notes and report to Draven, I can't play with you until I've finished."

He's already returned to his work when she says, "Fine, fine. I'm going out, then."

Jyn's shrugging into her jacket when the words register, and his head snaps up to look at her. "Going where?"

She lifts a brow, "Didn't you hear me? Out." Cassian is less than impressed, glowers at her. She slips her blaster into its holster on her hip, tucks a small knife into her boot. "I'm going to get so drunk I'll forget I wasted an entire _day_ here." She finally says, running her fingers through her unruly hair. There's no hope in fixing it, but he still thinks she's beautiful.

"Alone?" He clarifies.

She snorts, "Well, I don't expect you to stop being a stick in the mud anytime soon."

"Jyn, it's dangerous—"

She waves him off, wraps the scarf she'd been admiring earlier in the market around her neck, covers her hair, "Relax, no one will even notice me." He's about to say that anyone who doesn't notice her must be blind and stupid, but he catches himself just in time.

Instead, Cassian asks, "Where did you get that?" He tries not to look too disparaging. He already knows the answer.

"Filched it." Jyn says casually, running her fingers over the shining fabric. He can feel a lecture coming on, but the smirk simmering at the corners of her mouth needles at him. She loves an overreaction.

Coolly, just as casually as she'd admitted to theft, he says, "They'd cut your hand off for that here."

This time, her smirk is prevalent, "They could try."

Cassian gives up, grumbling. The door to their room slides open then shut behind her, and he turns his attention back to his datapad.

Later, after his reports have been checked and rechecked, he sends them in and sets his pad aside, eyes flicking to the door for the millionth time. Jyn still hasn't returned. The pit that had opened in his gut after the first hour had passed widens. He doesn't like the thought of her alone and amongst the lowest dredges of society, drunk no less. On this rock, anything could happen. He lets five more minutes pass before he's reaching for his shoes to go after her, just to make sure she was alright.

Halfway through lacing up his left boot, the door slides open, revealing a pink cheeked and bleary eyed Jyn. She waves as relief floods him; she's soaked to the bone from rain, and definitely plastered, but seems to be all in one piece.

As if she can read his mind (it was frightening how often she was accurate), Jyn holds up both hands as she steps inside, "Look! Still got all my fingers." She flutters them for effect. Her speech is slurred, but she grins like she's just told the galaxy's greatest joke.

Cassian can't help it, he smiles. She was surely going to be the death of him. He leans back in his chair, watches her struggle to remove her water heavy jacket along with her dripping boots and socks in amusement. She almost face plants a few times, failing to stifle her drunk giggles. Finally, she sinks to her knees in front of the fire, holding her hands out to the jumping flames.

"Were you going somewhere?" Jyn asks after her teeth stop chattering. He's too busy admiring the bones of her shoulders as they flex and flutter beneath her ivory skin (thank the Force for Alliance regulated tank tops) that it takes his brain a moment to catch up enough to respond.

He clears his throat when she turns her head to look at him over her shoulder, raising a delicate brow in question. He shrugs idly, taps his fingers on the armrest of his chair; how to say he was worried for her without actually saying he was worried for her. _Hmm._

"Just wanted to make sure I didn't have to bring this whole station down to stop you from being sex trafficked."

Perfect. Nailed it.

Jyn laughs, a genuine, glorious sound, and turns to face him, her back to the burning fire. She tilts her head, teasing, "Careful, Cassian. Someone will start to think you care."

He's pretty sure that ship had sailed into hyperspace long ago, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Can't have that, can we?" He agrees, he tries not to sound too fond, but fails abysmally. How she doesn't know of his feelings towards her is beyond him. He might as well be walking around with all of it stamped onto his forehead.

They talk for another half hour, or Jyn does, and he's perfectly content to let her ramble about her evening exploring S-7. She'd bested a man in a game of darts (to the man's dismay, and Cassian's delight), witnessed a bar room brawl that she for once hadn't started, and sat on a low hill and watched the mist crawl through the valley until it billowed from her nose like a fire breathing creature. Cassian himself can admit, Sera has a certain charm in the night time; there was danger lurking around every corner, but there was also music and art, cultures from every corner of the galaxy twisting through the streets.

He listens to her until she's yawning, her eyes fluttering open and shut as she tries to keep herself awake. He could have slept long ago, but he would never let a moment with her go to waste.

After another lingering yawn, Jyn pulls herself off of the floor and into the bed, burrowing under the threadbare blanket. When she's done, all he can see is tufts of her dark hair, sticking wildly in every direction. Her hand darts out of her cocoon, wrapping around the edge of the pillow. Her quiet sigh comes just as the embers of the fire crack.

He's jittery all of the sudden, fingers tapping where they lay on the cushiony leather of his armrest. It's not the first time they've slept together, but it is the first time it feels so close. _Intimate._ It's different than their heads lolling together as they rest against the cold metal wall of the ship's loading bay after a day spent working on an engine, different than Jyn snoring softly beside him as they perch at the top of a warehouse, Cassian bent over his scope to observe comings and goings.

Once, he'd even fallen asleep with his head in her lap after being stuck with a particularly vicious poisoned dart. Before his vision had faded, he'd reached up to touch all seven of her that were hovering over him, but his hand had gone right through, as if her teary eyes weren't really there at all. Later, he'd know it was the vertigo, but at the time, he couldn't think of anything worse than not touching her again, even as he lay dying.

Cassian wasn't sure if it was pathetic or something true and consuming.

With a sigh, Cassian pulls himself up. These days, he feels like he's getting old, or maybe just tired, the exhaustion seeping into his very being, merging with his marrow. He stokes the fire as he lets his mind wander, to Jyn of course. She hadn't mentioned anything about the sleeping arrangements, which means he shouldn't mention it. She was probably asleep already, anyway.

He'd done this with plenty of other companions over the course of his work with the Alliance, it shouldn't be this nerve wracking, he tells himself, but it still doesn't calm the steadily rising beat of his heart. Any louder, she'll wake up and sleepily ask him why's he's being so weird, and he'll have to pretend her half asleep voice isn't the most musical thing he's ever heard.

It wasn't just a woman in his bed, it was _her._ She was the most confounding thing; this being that had been thrust into his life by sheer chance. ("Or was it fate?" Chirrut would ask.) He's taken lovers, and felt lust, but nothing like this—a fire burning in his chest as hotly as it burns in the fireplace before him.

What will he do, he wonders, if it's not the same for her, and telling her ruins the carefully constructed family and life he's built? Slip back into anonymity, back into the shadows where all the ghosts and dark things hide? He was still an assassin, a spy, a liar—all the things he'd been before he met her. They lay just beneath his skin, waiting. His armor was said to be impenetrable, but just a nick from her, and he was sure he'd crack.

"Are you coming?" Jyn's voice is soft and warm in the silence, and Cassian starts. He'd been so deep in his own head he hadn't heard her stirring. Some spy he was.

"Of course." He manages when the surprise wears off, looking over his shoulder at her. She's sitting up, smile only a little drunk now.

"Good," She yawns, hand flying up to cover her mouth, "hurry up, I'm cold."

When he slides in with her, he maintains a respectable and gentlemanly distance, but not so far as she can't feel his body heat. She rolls onto her side to face him, her teeth flashing in the dimly fire-lit room as she says, "I'm happy to go home tomorrow."

Cassian smiles a little, "Me, too."

Her hand shifts in the sheets, fingers reaching out the play with the button of his shirt. "This has been nice, too," she pauses to look him in the eye, "being here with you."

His breath stills for half a second, and he swears she can feel his heart lying dormant in his chest because she presses her fingers closer, as if searching for the missing beat. Recovering quickly, he jokes, "Even though I said you were annoying?"

Her hand that had been warm and gentle against him a moment before now shoves him, "I forgot about that." She grumbles while he laughs. He finds that the sound comes easier more and more these days. In the past, there were years he'd swear he hadn't cracked one smile, and yet with her, they were starting to come as effortlessly as breathing.

Her hand had stayed fisted in his shirt as she'd pushed him, and now she surprises him and uses it to pull herself forward to snuggle in close to him. "Force, you're like a furnace." She says into his neck, lips brushing against the spot where his shirt meets his skin. He suppresses a shiver at her closeness, wrapping an arm over her waist and around her back. He listens to her breath even out as he rubs a hand up and down her spine, fingers softly pressing into the raised knots. He doesn't think she'd be so bold as to do this sober, but he enjoys it nonetheless. Her soft whisper of breath against his neck lulls him into his own deep sleep, hand sliding from her back up into her hair.

If this was the only peace he ever got, it would be enough for him.

...

His sleep is dreamless, fathomless, yet peaceful as Jyn is pressed against him. The only bother is the distant banging noise he can't seem to escape. Suddenly, the banging is deafeningly loud, and Cassian shoots up in bed as the door flies off its tracks, smacking against the far wall. Jyn reaches for her blaster where it rests on the bedside table as they wait for the smoke from the broken machinery to clear. Her eyes are wild, ready for a fight—

K-2SO hunkers down in the doorway, smoke fading around him, "Why didn't you answer the door?" He asks, voice devoid of any emotion as if he hadn't just blown their door to pieces and woken everyone within a hundred yard radius. Typical.

Cassian rubs his eyes tiredly as Jyn sighs, dropping her blaster before she flops back into the bed, arm strewn over her eyes. "I hate him." She says, voice still drowsy. K harrumphs as well as a droid can at this, offended.

Cassian swings his legs over the end of the bed, reaching for his boots. He nudges Jyn when she doesn't move, and she slaps his hand away, "Come on, let's go before the front desk clerk comes looking." He prods, poking her in the side.

"Ugh," Jyn grumbles, reluctantly pulling herself up. She scratches at her head, her hair adorably chaotic. She shoots K a pointed glare as she pulls her jacket off of the floor, "I slept like a rock," she remarks to Cassian, "until we were so _rudely_ interrupted."

Cassian's lips twitch, "I would hope so, since you stole all the blankets and hogged the bed."

She looks mildly affronted as she wraps her scarf over her hair. "At least I don't snore!" She fires back, donning her jacket and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She ducks under K's arm to move through the now droid shaped doorway, yelling for them to hurry up, as if it wasn't her that had taken the longest to rise.

Cassian doesn't have the heart to tell her that she does indeed snore, so he doesn't respond, simply glares at K. He'd been enjoying his sleep with Jyn more than he cared to admit, so he asks, miffed, "Did you _have_ to cause a scene?"

"I _did_ knock." The droid reasons. Cassian rolls his eyes, is about to make a rude comment when K continues, "Given your proximity, your heart rate, and Jyn Erso's complete lack of morals, there was a fifty nine percent chance you were indecent. I played the odds."

Cassian stills, ears slightly ringing. That percentage was... higher than he'd have guessed. He looks beyond the droid to see if Jyn had heard him. She's gazing at the dark sky, form dimly lit by the lanterns strung back and forth across the hostel's courtyard, seemingly unbothered.

"So you thought breaking the door down would be the best course of action?" Cassian hisses, pulse still flying like it's in hyperspace at K's insinuation.

"I was knocking for ages! People were looking at me funny."

Cassian rolls his eyes, doesn't bother to point out that K is a ridiculously tall, imperial droid, and that _of course_ people would look at him funny, only checks around the room once more to see if he or (most likely) Jyn had forgotten anything. He grabs her pocket knife off of the floor next to her side of the bed, slips it into his pack. Honestly, what would she do without him?

As they trek towards the docking bay where Bodhi and their ship await, Jyn and K bickering, Cassian thinks back to the droid's comment for the millionth time during the short walk: _there was a fifty nine percent chance you were indecent._

Fifty nine percent? He could work with that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love pining ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Draven deems Ashak's information as 'colossally useful' three days after Jyn and Cassian touch back down on Yavin-4.

Cassian is immediately disappointed; he'd hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it was all going to be as simple as a spooked young barkeep, painting just a few mouthy and rowdy loyalists as an organized and potentially dangerous unit, but it appeared her suspicions had _some_ merit, given that a mission is sanctioned with hardly any delay. His luck had run out some time after Scarif, it seemed.

In sixteen hours, Cassian would be returning to S-7 aboard a cargo shuttle, sans Jyn. He's not sure what's worse; returning at all, or returning without her. He will be in deep cover; his new alias was a simple outer-rim tradesman who cared little for 'sides' or politics, only the clank of coins in his pocket. It will be easy to infiltrate the cell, easy to make connections and track down the ring leader and the weapons supplier. There was hardly room for an edgy, shoot-first-ask-questions-later woman like Jyn. He's not particularly worried, this mission was only half as precarious as all the others, and at least there was no danger of a planet killer lurking on the horizon, but it will be months before he sees Yavin-4 again.

Months before he sees Jyn again.

Cassian leaves Comms with heavy steps, files tucked under one arm, the weight of his impending departure anchoring him to the floor. He'd only just returned from his liaison work, and now he was leaving again. He dreads telling Jyn, dreads the disappointment and the goodbyes and the months of no contact. It was the nature of their work—to slip through the cracks at a moments notice—and he would never abandon it so long as the cause was still true, but it grows more difficult each time; turning his back on her, and the others. He hopes for peace, someday, where he will never again have to leave the ones he loves behind.

Turning down the main hall, Cassian's sharp ears pick up the tinkling sound of Jyn's familiar laugh, flowing down the corridor from the mess. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to that; the bright, joyous, intoxicating sound. When he'd first saw her, he'd wondered if murderous was her default expression. Now, he knows, she was not as closed off as she liked to seem. It took months of chipping away at her industrial strength armor, trust pushed to the last limit, and slow, gathering familiarity, but Jyn was kind, honest, brilliant, and her laugh was so infectious it drew him in, further down the hall, around a corner. He'd been planning on hunkering over the files Draven had passed off to him in his quarters, lights turned dim, the silence easing his pre-flight jitters, but now he finds himself standing just in the wide doorway leading to the mess, eyes flicking back and forth in search of his crew.

Jyn and the others are seated at a corner table, and she's trying and failing to stick a spoon to her nose, Bodhi looking on in amusement, Baze unimpressed as he murmurs the play-by-play to Chirrut from the corner of his mouth. The spoon clatters to the table, Jyn exhaling a heavy, frustrated growl as Bodhi pats her shoulder, sympathetic. She tries again, and Cassian stays hovering just at the edge of the buzz of chatter and activity, committing the victorious grin that breaks across her face when the spoon sticks for longer than half a second to his deepest memories.

How was he supposed to say goodbye to her again? Last time, it had been all but torturous, though she'd hugged him so tightly it had almost put him back together, her arms around his neck, cheek pressed to his. He'd held her much smaller frame close, burying his face into her neck. "I'll see you." She had said into his shoulder, half hope, half threat. She has never liked goodbyes, endings, and he's starting to dislike them just as much, if not more.

When he left, there was a chance—as always—that he would never return. Strange, that after so many years, he has something to return to, something to think about while he was gone. A terrible distraction she was, but that doesn't stop him from smiling, a little ruefully, when she catches sight of him, hand lifting to wave him over. He slips into the vacant seat beside her, setting his files far from her snooping eyes, easily falling into the conversation. Outwardly, he teases Jyn for her childish antics. Inwardly, he's unsettled. Sixteen hours and he was gone. Chirrut eyes him from across the table—always eerie due to his blind stare—as if he can sense Cassian's internal spiraling. Eventually he nudges Baze and murmurs to him, the pair wandering off after wishing them all a goodnight.

Jyn has given up on her spoon trick, and now she's regaling Bodhi with tales of her solo adventures on Sera, her sly, secretive smile temporarily making Cassian forget all of his troubles. He listens to the stories he's heard at least twice by now once more, wishing that her thigh wasn't pressing into his, that her hair wasn't a hundred shades of dark underneath the fluorescent mess lights, that she wouldn't keep turning her head to catch his eye to make sure he was paying attention. Of course he was—always.

After an hour, Bodhi's loud and dramatic yawn cuts into one of Jyn's larger than life stories, and he pushes away from the table, his goodnight overtaken by another wide yawn.

Jyn immediately turns to Cassian as Bodhi sluggishly wanders off to bed, "Spar?" She asks, hopeful. She was in a good mood tonight, happy to be home and among her friends. It's in the open jade of her eyes, the ease of her smile. He hates that he's going to ruin it.

His mouth presses into a thin line, "Not tonight, Jyn."

She frowns at this, but doesn't press, "Walk me, then?"

Cassian nods, and she rises with him, her hand brushing along his lower back as she passes behind him to head towards the door. Her touch sends a pleasant shock through him, and not for the first time, he wishes for _more_ of her.

...

In the training room, Cassian sits with his back to the wall, watching Jyn swing a staff back and forth, hacking away at a poor, patched dummy. He's perfectly content to observe; the flex of her muscles, glimpses of the scars on her back from underneath her tank top as she twists and turns. Her hair has come undone, sticking to the back of her neck and shoulders. He commits this to memory, too.

The next hour passes too quickly—only fourteen left—and when Jyn turns to him, a sheen of sweat coating her skin, her bangs plastered to her forehead, he decides he's never seen anything better. She tosses the stick aside, breathing heavily as she holds her hand out to him. Wordlessly, he passes her the water canister, looks away from the bob of her throat as she drinks. _Shame, Andor, shame._

"You've been quiet tonight." She comments when she's done, passing the canister back. She stays close, pushing a punching bag lightly. It sways as her sharp eyes rake over him, "What is it, Cassian?"

He sighs, flexing his fingers around the canister. For a moment, he wishes for ale or something deliciously dark to drink instead. "I ship out tomorrow."

She looks un-surprised, she had to have known that the files he'd purposefully kept as far away from her as possible meant. Her hand stills the punching bag, brows pinching, and she asks, "Where?" It's needless, she already knows where.

"Back to Sera. Draven is concerned the cell could become a larger problem later. Best to bring it down now." It's reasonable to him, but she only grimaces.

"How long?"

"Unspecified."

Jyn snorts, dropping her hand from the punching bag. "I'm going with you." She states, as if it's all very obvious.

His lips quirk. He thinks she'd probably follow him anywhere. "Not this time, Jyn."

"You can't go back to that shithole alone." She glowers, and he imagines that she's planning on giving Draven an ill recommended piece of her mind.

"My orders—"

" _Fuck_ your orders, Cass. S-7, with no backup? You could be killed." She's irritated now, mouth down turned.

"I know what I'm doing, Jyn. Everything will be alright."

Jyn scoffs, shaking her head and turning away. Worry floods him. The last thing he wants is a fight with her just before he leaves. Silence falls between them, and she's leveling a glare so dark at the punching bag that for a moment, he thinks the inanimate thing will turn to dust.

"Cassian, will you—" She starts after a moment heavy with anticipation, then thinks better of it, looking almost disgusted with herself, "I mean, do you—" She brings her knee up into the punching bag, cutting herself off. She's frustrated, and, he realizes, _worried,_ but there is _something_ else there, hidden behind her eyes. Earlier, they had been so open to him. Now, they shutter, her truth a ghost once more.

He imagines she's asking: _will you miss me? Will you think of me? Do you love me?_ He wants to say: _yes_ , _always_ , _every_ _moment_ , but he doesn't, and then she swallows roughly, looking towards him but not quite at him, finally settling on the right—or at least, appropriate for the moment—words.

"Just come back, okay?" Her voice is small, but clear. _If you die, I'll kill you._ They aren't the words she'd wanted to say, he knows, but he takes them anyway.

Wordlessly, he nods. He won't make that promise out loud. Not to her. Not when it could so easily be broken. She seems to accept this, eyes flicking away from him—lest she speak what was truly on her mind—and he feels the curtains close. He's shut out once more.

Cassian gets to his feet, deciding to let her stew on her own, keen on getting some sleep. He turns to the door, and her fist colliding with the bag is so deafeningly loud that it rattles him all the way down the hall.

...

After flipping through the files Draven had given him, Cassian falls into bed, grimacing when a thin shoot of pain reverberates up his spine. The med-droids had worked a miracle on him, so the occasional pain didn't usually bother him, but tonight in particular, he felt it in every joint, every twist of his body. Maybe it was the rain pattering outside, or the look on Jyn's face when he'd told her that everything would be alright. Suddenly, he's not very tired, the heaviness of the following morning and his departure wiring him awake.

He imagines Jyn a few halls down, back in her shared room, grumbling about Draven and the _nerve_ he had, sending Cassian into the fray on his own. Her protective streak never fails to confound him; someone who so easily cut ties and pushed others away, clutched those she deemed worthy so close to her that her fingers ached. He'll never understand how he became so lucky, to be one of those worthy of her. He felt as though he'd won a grand prize in the form of her care, her laugh, her unending wit. It constantly amazed him.

Cassian has never cared for such things; friendship, family, love. For decades, it had been meaningless to him. They did not live in a galaxy that permitted such luxuries. Any attachment led to eventual disappointment, pain. He kept most at arms length, preferring to keep to himself, head down, bent over his work. Since Jyn, and Scarif, he's found that more and more, the mundane and chosen loneliness bores him. He'd rather be in the mess with the crew, or tinkering with Bodhi. He'd rather be wherever Jyn was. Her presence in his life had opened more than one door.

When he returns, he means to tell her: _you changed everything._ It was hardly enough, he has so much more to say, but the words constantly escape him. He could not accurately describe the feeling she gave him. A fire was lit the moment he laid eyes on her, and it was still burning him, from the inside out. He would surely fumble his way through it, but perhaps she'd only give him a teasing, knowing smile, and tug him close. Her hands upon him, feeling how his pulse raced, she would understand—always brilliant in her observations—that he was really saying: _I need you._ (Or maybe it was: _I love you._ )

Cassian exhales heavily, throwing an arm over his eyes. He could not set his armor down on the hopes of a _p_ _erhaps._ He'd rather face a thousand storm troopers than ever, ever, _ever_ have to trudge his way through that conversation with her. It's not the rejection that worries him, it's that _perhaps_ he's misconstrued how her fingers gently brushing his side as she passes, how her rare hugs to others have become regular occurrences for him, how she's always near, a touch away. It could all be meaningless, it could all be _friendship_.

He doesn't want it to be.

Rolling onto his side, he glances at the monitor on the wall beside the door—eleven hours until he ships out. He reaches out, flicking the bedside lamp off, emersing himself in complete darkness. He's suddenly anxious, a pit dropping into his stomach.

_Just come back, okay?_

He would, even if he had to bring down the entire rotten station to do it.

...

The following morning, Bodhi helps Cassian load the cargo shuttle, K2SO running diagnostics and prattling off percentages in the background. He'd already said his goodbyes to Chirrut and Baze in the mess after breakfast, and now his eyes constantly shift to the loading bay entrance, searching for a familiar head of dark hair. Thirty minutes until takeoff, and she'd yet to show herself. Usually she was early, insisting on helping him pack and running over mission points. He's not sure if it's for her benefit or his.

She hadn't been at breakfast either, and though he hadn't verbally expressed his worry, Chirrut had said, in a low voice as he clapped Cassian on the shoulder: _fear not, Captain. Your star will be here to send you off._ He'd been so struck by his use of 'your' that he could only nod, dumbfounded. It seemed as though everyone _but_ Jyn knew.

Fuck, for all he knows, she _is_ aware. How humiliating, thinking he'd kept this secret close, when all the while, she'd known how easily she stumped him.

Distracted, he nicks his palm on the corner of a crate, drawing blood. Glowering, he shoves the crate into place in the shuttle, chastising himself. She wasn't even present, nor did it seem she intended to be, and still, she commanded his thoughts.

Bodhi is leaning against the railing when Cassian trails down the ramp, frustrated. The taller, gentle eyed man looks at him with amusement, eventually unable to contain his snicker.

"What?" Cassian sighs, irritated.

"You've been wound up all morning. Relax, she'll be here." Bodhi says with a good natured smile.

Cassian always has a difficult time being cross with him. He deflates, "Is it that obvious?"

Bodhi snorts, "You're transparent."

Again, some spy he was.

"You should tell her." Bodhi presses, "Never know when it will be too late. Not a lot of tomorrows in this line of work, is there?" He lifts his hands in a 'just saying' sort of way when Cassian glares.

"Remind me, is that your business or mine?" Cassian says, steely, and he swears Bodhi almost rolls his eyes.

"What are we talking about?" A familiar voice comes from the bottom of the ramp.

Cassian starts while Bodhi descends, chirping, "Hey, Jyn! We were just talking about how secrets don't make friends." before tossing a knowing look over his shoulder.

Cassian ambles down the ramp, pausing just at the edge where she is on the other side of the rail, shooting one last glare at Bodhi's retreating back before directing his gaze to Jyn. She looks tired, and a little bit sad. He tries not too think about it too much. He's elated she's here, and feels foolish for doubting her. The railing separates them, and the distance is far too great for his liking. He'd rather she was close to his side, prepared for takeoff. She's giving him a curious look, interested in his _secret._ He shakes his head, best to not touch that now.

"Injured already?" Jyn comments, lifting a neat brow, nodding at the cut on his hand. "You sure you don't need a chaperone?"

His mouth twitches into a grin, "I outrank you, or have you forgotten?"

"Of course not, _Captain._ " She drawls, wrapping her small hands around the railing, her upper half tipping over the metal towards him. The corner of her mouth ticks up, curling into a half smirk. With great difficulty, the 'captain' doesn't melt him.

Unconsciously, he steps closer to her, one hand reaching out to wrap around the railing, tip of his thumb brushing her pinky. The air between them feels charged, like one match would ignite the entire room, sending them both up in smoke. If he could have what he wanted, he'd reach over the railing, tug her close until her body was flush to his. He'd brush those pesky wild strands of hair from her face, draw his fingers down her cheek and jawline. For now, he settles for this, close but not close enough.

She's looking down at their hands, her earlier smirk a tight frown. "Jyn." He prompts when the silence stretches, and her eyes flick up, the jade color piercing his chest, pointed right for his heart.

"I was going to come over here and threaten you with bodily harm some more, but now..." She shrugs, shifts her gaze so she's not looking him directly in the eye. Her most vulnerable tell. "Now all I can think to say is that it's going to be dreadfully boring without you here." When her eyes return to him, there's a warmth there, like she's just given him one of _her_ secrets, and she trusts him to take it to the grave.

He wants to kiss her, but the moment isn't right, not with the bustling and the prying eyes around them. Instead he reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, draws his knuckle down her cheek, holds her chin in his hand, thumb rubbing the skin there, like he'd hoped to do. He wills his eyes and touch to say what he cannot: _I'll think of you._

Fuck, he might dream of her, too.

Jyn bites her lip, looks down. Her eyelashes brush the tops of her cheeks, and he's enamored. How could one so slender take up so much space inside of him? When she tips her eyes back up, she seems resolved. She swallows, eyes square on his, "You should know that I—"

"Cassian, all diagnostics have been completed. You're running at 100%." K sticks his head around the side of the shuttle, "Shall I prepare for launch?"

Through his heavy and irritated frown, Cassian manages, "Yes, K. Thank you." before prompting Jyn once more, "You were saying?"

It's too late, the moment is broken, and whatever she was going to say drifts away, as fleeting as smoke. She shakes her head, causing him to drop his hand from her face, "It can wait."

Somehow, he knows that it cannot.

"Jyn..." Cassian starts, but she's already pushing away from the railing, closed off to him once more.

"Good luck, Cassian." She says, sardonic, walking backwards, "I meant what I said on Sera. You die, I kill you."

Dry, he says, "Noted."

She grins, but it has an edge, and then she's gone, turning and blending into the small crowd of passing crew members; some returning home, some leaving as he was. He stays at the bottom of the ramp for another full minute, wishing he could bring that moment they'd lost back, cursing K and his terrible timing.

 _You should know that I_ —

Sighing, Cassian trails into the shuttle, slamming the button that lifts the ramp once he's inside. He dwells on what she'd left unsaid long after he touches down on S-7.

...

Cassian knows he's dreaming before he knows anything else.

Gentle, warm fingers draw down his jaw, tracing over his lower lip with the softest touch. He knows the hands caressing his skin like his own, though he's never held them, not like he wants to, only observed them at great length. Lithe, quick to draw a blade, a peppering of scars. When she was pensive, and rarely, afraid, her fingers will wrap around the the crystal at her throat, as glassy as her eyes as she stares somewhere far away, years in the past. When she was diving head first into rage, her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms so deeply she draws blood. When she laughs, sometimes they cover her mouth, as if curling over a secret. Other times, they touch his shoulder, his knee, sending his blood racing, desire in his veins.

Her fingers have stopped, resting on his chin, scratching pleasantly at his beard. "Cassian." She says, voice far away, floating above him on an imaginary breeze. He knows the spell will be broken the moment he opens his eyes, but he does anyway, hoping to catch just a glimpse of her. "There you are." She breathes, fingers curling around his jaw, thumb to his cheek.

"Here I am." He agrees, transfixed, and she smiles. The same one she'd given him when he'd come back for her on Scarif, as if she had never doubted him. It's not really her, but that doesn't his heart from flinging itself into hyperspace, the sound of its quick beating ringing in his ears. He wraps his hand over her own, the warmth of her spreading down his arm, through his chest.

"Jyn..." He has so much to tell her, _too much_ to tell her.

"Shhh. Let's just rest here awhile." She murmurs in response, her eyes flicking up to look somewhere far off, hand smoothing through his hair. It feels strangely like a goodbye, then a blinding light steals the black of her pupils, the shine of it so bright he can feel it burning across his skin, turning him to ash.

Cassian shoots up in his cot, running a slightly shaking hand through his sweaty hair. He glances at the monitor on the wall beside him. Three hours to Yavin-4. Slowly, he lowers himself down, careful not to tweak his back. He stares up at the ceiling, listens to the low constant hum of the machinery around him. The dream always ends the same—the brightest light, then an unnerving abyss. His mother had been superstitious, and would say he had left part of his soul in purgatory; those moments he'd been suspended between life and death, droids lasering away burnt flesh, his back broken. He'd left a piece of himself behind and the empty space that remained could only be filled with dreams of that endless, fathomless black. Were they dreams, or nightmares? He couldn't tell anymore, but this particular one—there was nothing he desired more than Jyn's closeness, her fingers brushing his, and perhaps if he was lucky, a 'welcome home'.

He lies awake for the remainder of the transport, fighting the exhausted ache in his bones and the deep longing gnawing at his insides.

...

When his boots touch down to base, overwhelming relief floods Cassian. Another job surely well done, _and_ he'd kept his head attached to his shoulders. He's keen on a meal, sleep, and _Jyn._ Around him, others shuffle out of the loading bay, back from their own respective tasks. He's comforted by their grim, tired faces—he's not the only one stretched thin, true self buried underneath years of false identities and shadow. Some meet friends, hugging tightly. Others meet lovers, lips pressing clumsily together, clutching each other so close their beings meld into one.

Cassian does a quick scan, finding that his friends were nowhere in sight. He hides his disappointment; it was no matter, best to report right to Draven and then get some rest, anyway. He wasn't much up for interaction, either. Bodhi would happily talk his ear off, Jyn would—

He'd expected her to be here, most of all. Three months and not a moment had passed that he hadn't thought of her. He finds himself coming up with excuses as he walks down the main hall; maybe she'd been sent out herself, maybe she'd forgotten, maybe his return wasn't a priority for her.

Unease rolls through him, weighing him down as if he was tied to stones. There's a sudden ache in his lower back, a chip digging into his shoulder.

As he passes a seemingly empty corridor, a small hand darts out, wrapping around the strap of his bag. He's pulled down the hall and into an alcove. Surprised, he blinks down at a smiling Jyn.

"Missing someone, Captain?" She asks, mirth in her eyes. His dreams had never done them justice; he could never get the depth right, could never conjure up the perfect green. "You seemed disappointed."

"Certainly not." Cassian says with a scoff, but he reaches for her anyway, arms sliding around her back as she steps closer, cheek to his chest, her own arms wrapping around his middle. They stay like that for an immeasurable moment, away from prying eyes and any other interruptions. When his focus hadn't been on his cover, he'd thought of nothing else but this moment. He rests his chin atop her head, smoothing a hand up her back.

He'd happily stay like this for at least another week, but she leans back, looking up at him. There is a bruise on her cheek, a cut on her lip. He wants to fuss, and ask a thousand questions, but he settles for her arms around him, and her familiar scent—caf and a cool breeze—flooding his every pore.

"Welcome home." She says, soft.

Cassian grins in response, "It's never looked better." He says, enjoying the flush that blossoms across her skin, the pleasant surprise in her eyes.

Her eyes flick over him, cataloging, finally settling on his mouth. His pulse instantly quickens, hands shifting to hold her waist. There's something fearless about the way she pushes up onto her tiptoes, leaning close to him. Their noses brush together, her hands are at the back of his neck, ghosting along the collar of his shirt. Her mouth is so close he can almost taste it. He's eager, but not so eager that he can't enjoy the build, the excitement, the feeling of something _new_ sparking. She laughs, airy and light, presses closer—

"Captain, you're wanted in—" Jyn immediately rocks back on her heels, drops her arms from around his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish as Cassian skewers the unnamed Private who'd interrupted with a dark look.

He's pink cheeked, apologetic, "I'll, uh, I'll tell Draven you're busy."

Jyn steps back, and Cassian instantly misses the heat of her closeness, almost reaches out to draw her back. "No need." She says to the Private, then to Cassian, "I'll see you in the mess."

Disappointed, Cassian can only nod. The Private is still lingering, shuffling his feet. "Let's go, then." He sighs, trying—and failing—not to think about how good she looks walking away from him, his hands still tingling with _need._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very filler-y. If these two would just talk, amirite

After reporting in, Cassian makes his way to the mess hall, still reeling from his earlier encounter with Jyn. He thought—no, he _swore_ —she'd been about to kiss him. He's always known that she was beautiful, and that there was just _something_ about her he couldn't help but be drawn toward, but he'd never seen her like _that_ before. Lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as she'd leaned close, nose sliding along the length of his as her mouth curved with a secretive smile. He'd felt her breath on his skin, felt her hands on his neck as they'd been in that elevator—pressing, _wanting,_ though the last slip of sand had dropped to the bottom of the hourglass. The lurch in his heart hadn't come from the rickety steel underneath them, it had come with the sharp, stinging knowledge that he would never see her again.

He had realized something as he'd watched her walk away, his eyes tracing the curve of her hips as she rounded the corner, the Private awkwardly clearing his throat around Cassian's ogling. He's been wasting all this time waiting for the right moment, waiting for the words that lay jumbled in his heart to thread themselves together—when the reality was that there would never be a _right time,_ there was only _now,_ and _home;_ a thing that was no longer a place for him, but a person. There would always be another war, another mission, another official asking him to give too much. He was tired of denying himself life's simplest pleasures. Three months before, Bodhi had been right. He couldn't stand to leave base once more without Jyn knowing the truth.

If they hadn't been interrupted, he'd have folded right there in the alcove; her arms tight around him, the green of her eyes parting his ribs, planting lush trees and shaping waterfalls, nurturing a valley inside of him. He'd desperately wanted to kiss her, but more than that, he'd wanted to tell her— _the fixed point I return to is you._ Of all the moments they've lost to the wind since their first meeting, this is the one he misses the most.

When Cassian turns into the mess, his eyes scan for her, to no avail. She was nowhere to be seen. Bodhi, however, catches sight of him and beams, waving him over. He'd love nothing more than to scour every corner of the base until he found Jyn, but Bodhi's smile is contagious, and what sort of friend would he be if he vanished without so much as a 'hello' just so he could hopefully kiss a pretty girl?

Cassian joins the lean, brown-eyed man and his friends, flicking the plastic visor of his goggles with a good natured grin as he sits. A glass of something dark is immediately slid across the table towards him.

"We're drinking." Bodhi informs him, seemingly already three sheets to the wind, his hands wrapped around his own empty glass. _Clearly,_ Cassian thinks, stifling a laugh as Bodhi hiccups. He raises his glass in a toast, knocks it back. He's never been much of a drinker, but there's this weight in his gut, and the thought of Jyn; all this anticipation, wondering if she'll kiss him or kick him when he confesses to her. The liquor burns him to the core as it goes down, and he remembers that dream— _her,_ the blinding light, her hand in his hair as fire scorches across his skin.

If there was ever a time for liquid courage, it was now.

...

An hour and several drinks later, Cassian practically trips into his room. He feels along the wall for the control panel, turning the lights on as he lets out a yawn and rolls his shoulders. He'd searched for Jyn to the best of his inebriated ability, but had come up disappointingly empty. She wasn't in the training room, nor her shared bunk. He'd even checked to see if she was bickering with K in the loading bay. She was a woman that often didn't want to be found, so he'd given up, deciding the morning and a clear head would do him some good. He sluggishly decides to unpack tomorrow, bending down with great effort to unlace his boots. His feet ache, his back aches—his _brain_ aches, for that matter. He's going to collapse face-down onto his bed and not move until he's physically dragged back out.

Turning, keen on his face-plant, Cassian starts at the sight of Jyn sprawled across his bed, hair undone, looking absolutely thrilled to have caught him off guard.

"How did you get in here?" Cassian sputters, heart jackknifing behind his ribs. She'd surprised him, but it's the sight of her; inviting, comfortable, as if this was her space as well as his, that has him shifting, clearing his throat to cover his heartbeat, loud as a row of drums.

Jyn rolls her eyes at his questions as she sits up, hands sliding along his sheets. Of course she'd sliced in. "You're getting jumpy in your old age, Cassian." She remarks, mouth curling into that teasing way of hers. With her smirk, and her hair down around her shoulders, he has to resist the urge to press her back against the mattress, let his lips and hands tell her all the things he's thinking.

He glowers halfheartedly at her comment, unable to access his plentiful stores of wit at the present moment. He's too busy envisioning her in a state of undress, sweat soaking into his sheets as it drips down her skin, head tilted back to expose the long and creamy column of her throat. Her brow ticks up at his silence, knowing, her smirk growing more pronounced.

The air grows stifling, and he turns towards his desk, back to her. His nerves prickle, a rush of adrenaline in his veins. She always did that, sucked up all the breath in his lungs. Her methods were effective, if unintentional. (Though, lately, he's increasingly unsure of her intentions.) Behind him, he hears the rustle of sheets, a pillow being fluffed. She was lying in his bed, well past the appropriate time for a Sergeant to be in her commanding officer's quarters, and it didn't seem as if she was planning on leaving anytime soon. He's suddenly stone cold sober.

Dimly, as his eyes rake over his desktop, searching for anything to fill the silence before he drives _himself_ mad filling it with images of her disheveled and rosy cheeked, he remembers she'd mentioned meeting him, and the sore disappointment when she hadn't appeared. "Missed you in the mess." Cassian comments as he fiddles with a pile of paperwork, straightening it though it was already perfectly organized. Anything to keep his hands busy. There's a beautiful woman in his bed, and he hasn't a clue what to do with her. Kiss her, press his fingers to her bare skin to see if she was just as feverish as he?

"Mm, I liked this idea better. More privacy, yeah? Some would even say..." Jyn trails off, and he turns his head to look at her over his shoulder, brow raised in question. She's reclining against his pillow, arm resting casually over her head, mouth tilted mischievously. He finds it highly suspicious. " _Intimate._ " She finally finishes, grinning when his eyes narrow. She's surely teasing him now.

She's been so different these past few months, since before the trip to S-7. Half the time, she's bordering on flirtatious, the other half, he's sure he's imagining it. Just when he starts to think he can predict her, that he really and truly knows her, she tosses a wrench into all of his assumptions. He shifts to lean back against the desk, fingers wrapping around the edge to hold himself steady.

"Intimate." Cassian repeats, cool, though his head is spinning with the implication.

She simply crooks her finger, beckoning.

He must be truly weak for her, because he instantly complies. There are probably a thousand reasons to not get this close, and a thousand more this could all implode in his face, but as he slides into the empty space beside her, all he can feel is overwhelming relief. Things were not quite right without her. The three months he'd been gone, there were times he'd found himself turning to the space beside him, as if he could conjure her from sheer will alone. The empty feel of the air would give way to an even heavier void like feeling in his chest. He'd missed her more than he cared to admit to anyone, ever.

Jyn shifts to share the pillow, her head lolling to meet his as he comfortably arranges himself along the length of her. She's got one knee bent upwards, her other leg extended, white sock clad toes brushing his knee. The silence is easy, and he watches her as she stares up at the ceiling, her lashes dark against her skin. The bags under her eyes are swollen, the bruise on her cheek yellowing. Without thinking, he reaches out to gently brush his finger over the cut on her lip. Her eyes shift to him, brow raised.

"How did this happen?" He asks. Where has she been all this time? Here, or some far off planet, dreaming of him as he dreamt of her?

She smiles under his finger, still teasing, "That's confidential." He gives her a sour look, and she reaches up, taking his hand in hers. She drops their linked fingers at her side, and he resists the urge to cover her small hand with both of his, just to make sure this moment was real. "It was nothing I couldn't handle." She says with a light shrug. He squeezes her hand— _you don't have to hide anything from me._ Her smile returns, "Really, Cassian, I'm fine."

"Alright, then. Keep your secrets, Erso." He feigns indifference, but runs the pad of his thumb across her hand. She would have to be as blind as Chirrut to not see that he was anything but indifferent to her.

Jyn lets out an airy laugh, head turning to him, "I will, thank you very much." The light above casts a shadow, bathing half of her face in darkness, "We all have them, don't we?" She asks, her words scarcely a whisper now, eyes flickering. Her gaze is imploring, sharp as a knife prepared for a sacrificial cut.

Cassian swallows. An inch closer and he could kiss her. As if it wasn't constantly on his mind already. The mood has shifted; from teasing, familiar, to—well, he can't quite put his finger on it. He yearns to close the space, wrap his empty hand in her hair while the other kept a tight hold of hers.

After a charged moment, he realizes he hasn't answered her question, loaded as it was. "Indeed," he hedges, "there are some I will take to the grave, and some..." he pauses, searches for the right words. How terrible it would be to scare her away now. "Some are simply being kept for the right moment."

Clever woman she is, her mouth twists into that knowing smirk, "How will you know when it's right?" She asks as she shifts, hand regretfully slipping from his as she rolls onto her side to face him.

Cassian licks his lips, prepares to blow his cover once and for all. "I think... when it becomes consuming."

"And has it consumed you yet, Cassian?" She wonders softly, voice pitched unusually low. It curls up his spine, tugs at the feeling of desire, always in the pit of his stomach when she was near.

His eye twitches. _She knows, she has to._ "I thought I was the interrogator here. All these questions."

Her eyes roll to the ceiling, " _You're_ the one being secretive. I, on the other hand, am an open book."

Cassian snorts. Unbelievable. "No, you're a stone tablet transcribed in a dead language."

Jyn scoff-laughs, shoving at him, "You know me better than _anyone._ " She reminds him.

He catches her hand easily, holds it tight to his chest, her palm flat against the cotton of his shirt. He wonders if she can feel the searing heat, too. If she longs for the space between them to close as much as he does. "I know. I'm flattered."

Her teasing, almost flirting smile fades as she looks at him. Somber now, she murmurs, "Cassian..." Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, fingers curling into his shirt, as if he'd ever think of moving away.

He can't help it; he yawns, a wide, jaw cracking yawn. He apologizes, nudges her to continue, but she only shakes her head, retracting her hand, "It's nothing. We can talk about it tomorrow. You're exhausted, you should rest."

He feels as if he's ruined something again, but he knows better than to push her beyond her limits. She sits up slow, and his hand darts out, catching her wrist as she slides to the edge of the bed. Surprised, she blinks at him. "Will you stay?" He asks. It's as close to the truth as anything he's ever said to her.

Her quizzical expression softens, "Sure," she murmurs, "but I get the 'fresher first in the morning."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." Cassian says, already sold.

Gently, Jyn pulls her wrist from his hand, goes to turn the lights off. In the dark, he can just barely make out her form at the edge of the bed, pulling her shirt over her head. "No," she allows a moment later, as she crawls across the mattress to the pillow, hands sliding dangerously close to him, "you just ask them to stay and keep you warm at night."

Cast in the creeping darkness, he finds his courage, says, "It's not my fault terrorists are rather lovely these days." Her teeth flash as she smiles, and where their arms touch, he can feel a flush creeping across her skin. He reaches out, tugs her close, her chin digging into his shoulder as she stretches her arm across his chest. "Comfortable?" He asks when she settles. Her 'mhm' is muffled, but satisfied.

Slowly, his eyes drift shut, the exhaustion and drink finally catching up to him. Jyn's even breathing steadies him, the feel of her fingers sliding between his the last thing he remembers before he slips into a fitful sleep. He rests so soundly he misses the repeated dings from his datapad, discarded and all but forgotten in his duffel as soon as she'd bent her finger at him, banishing every thought save for her from his mind.


End file.
